


Optional Photo

by Bayyvon



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I like her 'cause she's smart, headstrong, and independent;<br/>She puts me in my place, but I don't know where I stand...."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cross My Heart And Hope To Die, Burn My Lungs And Curse My Eyes

Nathan is leaned against the side of the Blackwell building, a Marlboro clenched between his lips as he sucks in a hard breath that trickles the nicotine laced smoke down his throat; it brings with it a familiar scorching sensation along the walls of his lungs and he finally releases, the smoke becoming a wall between his eyes and the stars dotting the October sky. His eyes flutter shut, and he leans his head back against the jagged brick edges. His headphones let loose a steady stream of orchestral strings moaning soft renditions of pop songs he didn't know the words to. He wouldn't even have noticed a change in his surroundings had the songs not been switching over and his ears were met with stark silence, and the soft, mechanical whirr he knew belonged to an instant camera. He opens his eyes, and looks in the direction he'd heard the noise to find Max Caulfield shaking out a picture. She looked embarrassed to be caught, and he tugged out one earphone. She fumbles her camera away quickly, blue eyes latched onto his own, fear etched in pieces among fragments of curiosity. He raises a brow at her.

"The hell're you doin' out here?" He questions, agitation coloring his words. "No," He amends, anger beginning to bite deep into his tone. "Better question: why the fuck're you wanderin' around barefoot in the middle of the night takin' pictures of strangers?"

"I couldn't sleep." She admits in a blurt. "I'm sorry." Max hands over the picture, and the taller teen scans it with scrutiny. It was nice. She knew what she was doing, he couldn't deny that.

"You do know it's like, 60 degrees right?" Nathan says on the tail end of a smoke cloud, nodding to her bare feet and threadbare t-shirt, seeing her shiver as he roughly shoved the photograph into his jacket pocket.

Max shrugs, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck, a shy grin perking the edges of her mouth, a succession of shivers racking her slender frame as she fought to stay still, watching Nathan through her lashes.

The older boy's response of 'fuckin' dumbass' is muffled around his cigarette as he shrugs out of his red varsity jacket and crosses the few paces of distance to offer it to her. She begins to accept, when she notices small, silvery-pink lines etched up and down Nathan's exposed forearm and she pulls at his wrist.

"What's-"

" _Nothing._ " He barks, roughly shoving the jacket at her, and self consciously tugging his button up sleeves back down.

Max looks doubtful, but gratefully wraps herself in the warmth Nathan's large jacket radiated. "Thanks." She mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, yeah..." Nathan pulls one last drag off his cigarette before flicking it into a distant patch of grass.

The photographer is quiet, watching Nathan pull out a green and white pack of cigarettes. She'd spent enough time with Chloe to know they were Marlboro Menthols, and that she didn't mind the way these

smelled as much as she minded regular ones. She watches the way he becomes more relaxed the longer he leaned back against the wall, menthol trapped between thin lips and a blissed out look on his face. He begins to blow smoke rings, when he notices Max watching him, with her head tilted and her doe-like eyes absorbing every detail she could. He felt an irritating blush creep across the peaks of his cheeks.

"Why the fuck d'you keep starin' at me? You got your damn picture, now fuck off."

She quickly adverts her eyes, and turns to head back towards her dorm, when her phone begins to buzz violently in her pocket. Chloe had sent her rapidfire texts about meeting her at the front, and she was late.

It isn't until a hard line of bitter wind slices through Nathan's thin button up that he realizes Max had taken his jacket with her.

"…..fuck."


	2. Have I Found You, Flightless Bird?

The next morning Max finds herself wrapped snuggly in Nathan's jacket, inklings of a distant dream still in her peripheral as she rolls out of bed and stretches slightly. His scent still clung to its crevices, warm and masculine and almost sort of... _'homey'_ her brain supplied. Her cheeks begin to warm at the sudden thought, and she decides to set herself on a mission to find clean pants. She's sifting through her clothes when a knock comes to the door, and she yawns, twisting the lock and pulling it open. She blinks blearily up at Nathan who stood with his elbow propped above his head in her door jamb, blue eyes widening as he takes in her appearance. Her hair is ruffled, sticking up in a multitude of directions, and she looks like she just woke up. She's squinting up at him, blue eyes shining bright against a backdrop of orange and red streams of light. His jacket hangs loose on her shoulders over a pair of gray sleep shorts and a blue t-shirt with a cartoon camera exclaiming _'I shoot people!'_ And it's probably the most endearing thing Nathan's ever seen. He feels a slight blush begin to color his cheeks, and hopes that the sunrise masks it somewhat. 

"Morning..?" The slight girl prompts and Nathan realizes he'd been gawking at her. 

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. "You stole my jacket last night, Caulfield." 

"Hmm?" She glances innocently down at herself, as if she'd forgotten she was even wearing it. "Oh." 

Jesus kickflipping Christ, Nathan could not catch a fucking break with her this morning. 

"Shit, yeah, I'm sorry." Max shrugs it off and hands it over, watching Nathan anxiously tap his fingers against the door frame. 

"Thanks..." He mutters, pulling it on over his gray t-shirt. He tries not to think about the fact that it's warm and it smells like her all light and floral and jesus he needed to get out of here before he made an ass of himself. "Don't fuckin' do it again!" His cheeks are probably flaming red by now as he stalks away from her, and Nathan hears her chuckle and call after him "Have a nice day!" 

Max watches him go, a small smile on her face. She tries not think too hard about the fact that seeing Nathan look at her like he had was making her stomach do involuntary flips. His pupils had dilated enough for her to notice even in her sleep clouded haze, and they weren't filled with any anger, or resentment, they were almost.. awed, the way his brows had perked and he'd damn-near been staring at her. His lips had parted and his jaw had dropped just a little, enough to soften his entire expression. _He's pretty handsome when he's not angry,_ Max decides, heading back into her room to continue her morning routine. 

Nathan bursts out the front doors and onto the sidewalk, towards where the small gathering of morning smokers had congregated by the parking lot. He pulls out his pack, and realizes he'd left his lighter on his bedside table. He turns to head back to his dorm, when he sees Victoria coming towards him, rage seeping from her every movement. 

"Can we talk? _Alone? Now?_" 

"Sure, sure. As soon as you give me your lighter." 

She scoffs, but fishes one from her purse. It's ombre'd indigo, and inscribed with her zodiac sign and a large scorpion. He follows the blonde as she leads him towards where her car is parked. 

"What the fuck was that?" She hisses sharply. 

He lights his cig before responding around it. "What the fuck was what?" His brow furrows. It was only eight o'clock, what could he have done to piss off Vic this much in such a short time span? 

"Max. Selfie." Victoria growls, blue eyes full of contempt for the older girl. 

"Oh. That." Nathan shrugs, flicking ash away from Vic's car. 

"Yeah. _That_. Nathan I _saw_ you all schmoozed up to her, gawking like a dumbass." 

"I wasn't gawking." He defends, taking a hard drag from his cigarette, watching Victoria rustle around for her own pack of American Spirits. 

"You were." She confirms, snatching her lighter back. "Like this." The designer demonstrates, dropping her jaw and making starry eyes at Nate. 

"Shut up." The artist grumbles, angrily snubbing out the latter half of his Marlboro with the toe of his dress shoe. "I was not. I was telling her not to steal shit from me anymore." 

"Yes, because she just up and decides she's a jacket fetished klepto." Vic rolls her eyes and Nathan huffs. 

"Fuck off, okay?" He growls. "Why the fuck is it any of your business what I do with my fuckin' clothes, Victoria? You're not my fuckin' mom!" 

"....I thought she 'stole' it." Victoria rolls her eyes. 

"She- she did!" The brunet insists. 

"Cut the crap, Nathan. Why'd you give'er your jacket?" Victoria looks up at him expectantly. 

Nathan huffs in defeat, scuffing the toe of his shoe back and forth as he looks everywhere but Victoria's icy blue gaze. "It was nothin'. She was runnin' around without shoes or a jacket on with that goofy ass camera and she was about to freeze to death, that's _all_ it was." 

"Mhmm." Victoria says around a mouthful of smoke. "What about this morning, then?" 

"Quit tryin'a fuckin' analyze me, Vic." The older teen says as he runs a hand through his hair. 

"Then tell me the truth, Nathan!" She snaps up at him. When he flinches away from her, she grimaces, and recomposes herself. "Stop being so fucking cryptic about everything. We're best friends, you can come to me with anything." 

The corner of Nathan's mouth perks slightly. "I know, Vic. 'M sorry." He blows out a frustrated stream of air, and habitually begins rubbing over a large scar on his forearm. "Wanna grab breakfast somewhere? I'll try and sort it out on the way." 

Max is situated in the floor of her dorm, her guitar in her lap, individually picking strings that slowly but surely hum out an Iron & Wine song she'd been trying to learn but hadn't had the time to. She's halfway through the chords displayed on her phone screen when she gets a text from Chloe. 

_WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?_

A picture is attached of the photo she'd taken of Nathan the night before, leaned against the maroon bricks, blowing large clouds of smoke against a backdrop of scorched navy blue. 

**A photo.**

_a photo of Nathan Prescott, Max._

**For an assignment from Mr. Jefferson, Chloe. Chill.**

_whatever._

An agonizing moment passes before Chloe sends another message that etches deep frown lines into Max's features. 

_i guess now youre gonna tell me wearing his jacket was an assignment from mr fuckerson too, huh?_

**Seriously, Chloe? I was lent a jacket because it's the middle of October and mine is full of holes from that junkyard escapade you took me on.**

_dont bother meeting me today._

Max groans in frustration, tossing her phone onto her bed and setting her guitar to her left. She puts her face in her hands and huffs dejectedly. She puts April back in her lap and tries to remember what she'd been working on before Chloe had interrupted her. She pulls out a few notes before her phone begins to buzz again.   
"..Chloe, I swear to god-" 

_**max  
its nathan.   
meet outside?   
same as last nite   
...pls?** _


	3. I Was Scared Of Pretty Girls And Starting Conversations

Nathan bounces nervously on the balls of his toes, waiting impatiently for Max to show up -- or, at the very least, reply to his texts. He didn't know her well, and it's highly likely he'd frightened the everloving fuck out of her with his erratic behavior, but what he did know about her was that she tried to help everyone, even when they didn't need deserve it: case in-point, him. She'd lodged herself between him and that geek Warren the other day, without any ulterior motive, and since then, well... 

He hated to admit to anyone, let alone himself, but Victoria had wheedled it out of him over breakfast at the Two Whales. His face had been redder than his jacket, which still held Max's scent and made his heart jump when he caught wind of it. Jesus, he wanted to hate her, he did, but he couldn't. She'd always tried to be at least a little nice to him, even when he hadn't been so nice himself. But, fuck... the way she'd looked this morning... The light had played so fucking beautifully over her pale skin, making her dust colored freckles much more prominent than they usually were. Her hair, albeit messy from sleep, had looked so soft in the morning light he'd almost had to physically restrain himself from reaching out and threading his hands through it. 

"Goddamn...." He mutters, scratching through his own hair, anxiously peering around for Max. He's able to suck down half a cigarette when she suddenly seems to apparate, bag slung over her shoulder and watching him curiously. "Jesus!" 

"No, just Max." The corner of her mouth perks slightly, before she returns her gaze to her Chucks. "You said you wanted to meet me?" 

"Ah, yeah," Nathan nods a little, his cheeks beginning to warm. He leans down, and picks up a blob of discarded blue fabric, quickly shoving it into her arms. "Here! Keep it..." He blurts, taking a moment before he tacks on: "All your jackets are shitty anyway.." He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, watching her pull on the blue varsity much like the red one he wore. 

"Thank you, Nathan." Max's grin is lopsided and genuine. "Was this all you needed, or...?" 

"No! No... I, uh. I wanted to know..." The rest of his sentence is lost in a hasty mumble as Nathan focuses intensely on the scuffs on his shoes. 

"Wanted to know what?" 

"You wanna party?" 

"Party." She repeats. "You. Wanna party with _me?_ " 

Nathan chuckles nervously, eyes flitting from her, to the nearby students, back to her, and then to his shoes. "Yeah, y'know. A, uh. A party. Stack'a movies, a little booze," He begins to tap a no nonsense rhythm against his thigh, and he grins at her, toothy and awkward. 

"Sounds more like a date than a party." Max smiles back at him. "And I don't really drink." 

"No booze then?" Nathan amends quickly. "No booze." 

Max laughs softly, shaking her head. "How about we skip the party, do takeout dinner and rent a movie instead." 

"F'real?" Nathan's eyes widen, and his features begin to blossom in awe, the left corner of his mouth perking upwards; and as quickly as it came, his expression dropped and he no longer held her eyes, scuffing his shoe back and forth as he tacked on, "You don't have to, y'know." 

"I'll see you at six?" She confirms, and fuck he thinks his heart stopped. And then it starts up again, pounding so hard he's worried he'll become bruised from the inside out or worse yet that she'll be able to hear it. 

"Six." He repeats softly, a grin splitting across his face as sharp blue eyes flicked between her and his shoes. "Six is good." 

"Six it is, then." Max grins, turning to leave him with himself and his unfinished cigarette. 

As Max heads back towards the fountain, she hears Nathan murmur to himself. “Six, six, six, six, six. Six.” 

** 

Max examines herself in the hanging mirror beside her bed, fiddling with her hair and adjusting then readjusting her faded gray t-shirt. 

_You're fine Max, you can do this. It's not a...date. Just, a night in with someone who needs a friend._

She sighs and pulls open her door to find Nathan standing there, hand raised and ready to knock. He'd tried his hardest to make his busted nose look a little better, and his jacket was folded across his left arm. He wore a loose fitting t-shirt with a black and white picture of a whale, over a deep red thermal. Dark wash jeans hang just enough that he self-consciously pulls them up. 

He notices Max examining him and rubs the back of his neck almost nervously. "Too goth?" 

"Not at all." The photographer grins. 

"You, ah, you ready'ta go?" Nathan offers her his free arm, and flashes a smile at her. 

Max nods and settles her hand in the crook of his elbow, and allows him to lead her towards his dorm. 

They walk mostly in silence, Max taking opportunities to observe Nathan this way, calm and serene, maintaining faux confidence like a true Prescott. He catches her looking, and the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to tell her he was smirking; no doubt self-satisfied that he'd caught her red handed in the act of ogling. 

The boys dorm is louder than she remembers, and she cringes when the noise envelopes her the way an itchy blanket would: uncomfortable and suffocating. Nathan notices the way Max had pressed herself a fraction closer to him, and he figured it would be his best option to quicken their pace and make it to his room in as little time as possible. 

It's a little cleaner in here than the last time she'd had set foot past the threshold of the door frame, Max notes. The pills are gone off the floor, no more half-finished projects being strewn about, and his dirty clothes are in a gray wicker basket; he'd even thought to have taken the bondage prints down, their tell-tale frames jutting out from underneath his bed, and he quickly nudges them further back so that they disappeared completely. It was endearing that he'd gone to the trouble, even if they were minor details. 

"Wait a sec, wait a sec," Max says around a mouthful of chow mein, pointing at the screen. "So, Scagnetti wants Mickey dead, because he's obsessed with Mallory? Like an 'if I can't have her, neither can you' sort of thing?" 

"Mhmm," Nathan hums, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork. "Scagnetti pays his dues, don't worry." He reassures her, watching as Mickey and Mallory Knox are beaten senseless by a brute-ish police force. 

The credits finally roll, and Max sighs, leaning back against the wall at the head of Nathan's bed, watching as he picked things up as he moved about the room. 

"You wanna, maybe, go somewhere?" Nathan suggests, collecting all the takeout boxes into the bag they had arrived in. "Take a drive?" 

Max's brows pull together, and she looks at him skeptically. "A drive." 

Nathan pockets his keys and throws his hands up. "No funny shit, swear. Just a drive."


	4. If Only I Could Find The Words

"Nathan, are you  _sure_ we can be here?" Max questions, watching Nathan effortlessly scale the large fence plastered with ' **NO TRESPASSING** ' signs.

 

"'course. Bay police haven't patrolled this part'a the beach in years," Nathan says, lifting the bottom of the chain link fence to create a hole large enough for Max the crouch through. "B'sides, no one's ever really out here 'cept f'r me."

 

"Whatever you say," The photographer smiles softly, following Nathan through the fence and onto a secluded beach area.

 

Nathan leads her by muscle memory alone to a small, damp cave-like crevice just barely big enough for the two of them to fit comfortably to watch the tide roll.

 

"This place is beautiful, Nathan.." Max says, awe coloring her words.

 

"I come out here a lot," Nathan murmurs, digging in his pockets for his Marlboro's. "D'you mind?"

 

"Not really," The brunette smiles fondly face briefly illuminated by the flash of Nathan's red Bic.

 

She watches the light play across his features when the cherry of his cigarette glows an angry red with every inhalation. He sighs heavily, smoke trailing from between his lips languidly, leaning back against the wall of their small hiding place. _It feels safe here,_ Max muses, a content smile creeping across her lips.

 

"What?" Nathan questions, self consciously checking for burn holes in his clothes. "Did I ash on m'self'r somethin'?"

 

The girl giggles, shaking her head. "No," She leans back into the warmth the other teen provides in their close proximity. "I like it here... it's like we're the only people on Earth or something..."

 

Nathan grins, trying to fight back the flutter of something stronger than butterflies that rattle his stomach. He takes one final drag off the filter before stubbing it out on one of the walls, and when he turns his head to look at her, they're inches apart, eyes locking. Thin lips curl into a soft smile, and Nathan thinks he may have stopped breathing. He can't hold it back this time, he has to reach out and touch her she makes it so goddamn hard for him not to, and her cheek is so warm under his hand, the bone beneath arching high under the trail of his thumb.

 

Max feels herself flush heavily under Nathan's gaze, the cool temperature of his hand a sharp contrast to her strawberry skin.

 

"Max?" Nathan whispers, almost inaudible against the backdrop of the crashing waves. "Is this okay?"

 

The photographer nods, pressing herself closer to the blond, breath catching in her throat when Nathan presses nicotine tinged lips against her own. Max grips the older boy's upper arm, suddenly anxious to press herself closer to him, and Nathan lets her in, his free hand fitting comfortably against her side as he pulls their lips apart. Her eyes flutter open to meet his own and _fuck_ , Max has never seen them so look at her so achingly gently. Her heart hammers in her chest and she fights to steady her breathing. A grin breaks out across Nathan's face, and he tightens his grasp on her hip. He gently rests their foreheads together, eyes flickering shut, savoring the moment as long as he could. 

 

She makes the next move, eager to press soft kisses across his mouth and jaw, pressing no further than settling where Nathan's neck meets his shoulder. Max doesn't mean to, but she inhales deeply, his scent a warm spiced contrast to the bitter salt of the sea air swirling around them. Nathan is smoothing his thumb across Max' s knuckles, when he has an idea. 

 

He speaks, softly so as not to startle the girl by his side. "Hey, Max? C'n.... c'n I show you somethin'?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, lovelies! I am so very sorry! I hope this makes up a little for the long wait, but you should expect more in the near future!


	5. Make Sure You Kiss Your Knuckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow hi guys. I’m so sorry. I had to step away from everything for a while to work on my mental health but now I’m back! And this is kind of angsty? I’m so sorry. I hope you enjoy this. Expect more updates in the coming months!

Chloe grumbles to herself, slowly panning her flashlight across the vacant lot, already having thoroughly convinced herself that tonight was a bust, and she wasn't gonna find a damn thing--

She feels a strange tightening in her chest when she spots Nathan Prescott's truck parked near a section of gnarled fence. She quickly flicks her light off, and heads cautiously towards it. Once she was close enough to determine that there was no one in it, and Nathan was nowhere closeby, her curiosity started to nag at her.

What secrets could Nathan have locked away in this death trap?

She tugs experimentally on the door handle, and is admittedly a little startled when it swings open towards her. The blue haired teen turns her light back on, and scans the surface. His keys still dangling from the ignition, Nathan's red varsity jacket is settled in the passenger seat, beside a tied off plastic takeout bag. The creme colored interior is relatively clean, and there's nothing but an emergency kit and few empty cigarette packs and dime bags in the cab. It's so unsettlingly..... normal, it almost makes Chloe's stomach turn. She hopes to whatever's out there that she doesn't get maimed, and reaches one hand under the seat. Nothing but a few protein bar wrappers and some loose change.

She rounds off to the other side and lifts Nathan's jacket only to muffle a scream. Max's camera, and her bag had been hidden from view. Chloe frantically fumbles out her cell, dialing Max's number, but her phone vibrates from inside her bag.

Chloe feels her gut drop, and sprints, flashlight in hand towards the fence. She scales it easily, calling out for Max as she goes.

*

The beach before them is quiet as they head hand in hand back to the truck. Nathan chuckles nervously, rubbing his free hand across the back of his neck. "I, uh, I gotta tellya th'truth, Max,--"

A small light pricking the horizon is gradually coming closer, and Max feels her whole body stiffen. "I told you we shouldn't be out here!"

Nathan feels the fimiliar creep of anxiety up the back of his neck, but tries to tamp it down. This was fine. Everything was cool. It was gonna be okay.

"N-nathan?" Max feels her hand fidgetig at her side, and she represses the urge to rewind. She didn't want to, but if she absolutely had to...

"Max?!"

The brunette feels a tad better hearing a familiar voice, but ice spikes her veins when she realized what was about to happen.

"Max!"

Chloe comes into view, and Max feels Nathan stiffen beside her.

When she sees Nathan, Chloe redirects her body towards him, rage hardening her features. "You!"

"Chloe--" Max steps out a fraction in front of Nathan, never losing her grip on his hand, causing Chloe to stop in her tracks.

"What the hell is going on here?" The blue haired teen is a picture of blinding rage, even in the dark.

"Chloe, calm down--"

"Why the fuck are you holding his hand, Max?"

"Chloe, listen--"

Chloe's eyes burn holes into Nathan's head, and she pushes past Max to wind her fingers into Nathan's shirt collar. He drops Max's hand in order to wrap his own around Chloe's wrists. "What'd you do to'er?"

"Chloe, please--"

"I didn't do anything, Price."

"Yeah, like I'd fucking believe anything you fuckin' said, Prescott." Chloe shoves him backwards agressively, and Max feels her gut drop when Nathan hits his back in the sand. Chloe raises her fist, more demanding this time. " _ **What did you do to Max?**_ " When she gets no answer she begins to pummel him, the sound of skin hitting skin making Max sick to her stomach. She raises her right hand, and tries not to let guilt eat as her as she watched the scene in reverse. She lets go and shes looking into Nathan's eyes back in the cave.

"Can we go? I'm getting kinda chilly," Max asks softly, more embarassed the second time than the first by the way Nathan looked at her. Like she was magic.

"Yeah, yeah." Nathan helps her up, keeping her left hand in his right as they head quietly back to the truck.

*

Chloe huffs indignantly when the sectioned off area of the beach is clear. She was so not forgiving Max for making her go out here alone in the dark.


End file.
